


Geralt (Not from Rivia)

by buttercupsanddandelions



Series: Witcher One-Shots [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Fluff and Humor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt's fake accent, In this house we love and bully Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, no beta we die like this meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercupsanddandelions/pseuds/buttercupsanddandelions
Summary: Geralt has lived a long life, and as expected, he has many regrets.He should have never asked Vesemir if he can go by Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde because that comes to bite him in the ass every winter. He should have never stepped foot in Blaviken because no one lets him forget the one time he was there. And he never should have decided to pick Rivia as the place he was from because Geralt is a lot of things and dramatic is one of them so he sticks to his shitty Rivian accent like glue and hopes that no one calls him on his bullshit.And no one ever does, especially after the Blaviken incident because they’re all too afraid to, which works out for him in the long run.That is until he meets a rambunctious bard who refuses to leave him alone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher One-Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893364
Comments: 33
Kudos: 250





	Geralt (Not from Rivia)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This was written in approximately two hours because I am an animal. 
> 
> Based on my tumblr [post](https://buttercupsanddandelions.tumblr.com/post/634465042807554049/i-feel-like-we-as-fic-writers-dont-write-nearly)

Geralt has lived a long life, and as expected, he has many regrets. 

He should have  _ never _ asked Vesemir if he can go by Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde because that comes to bite him in the ass every winter. He should have never stepped foot in Blaviken because no one lets him forget the one time he was there. And he never should have decided to pick Rivia as the place he was from because Geralt is a lot of things and dramatic is one of them so he sticks to his shitty Rivian accent like glue and hopes that no one calls him on his bullshit.

And no one ever does, especially after the Blaviken incident because they’re all too afraid to, which works out for him in the long run. 

That is until he meets a rambunctious bard who refuses to leave him alone.

Geralt tries everything he can to get the bard to leave; he punches him, almost gets him killed by elves, deliberately makes camp in a clearing full of rocks that no amount of padding in a bedroll can save him from, prepares food that gives a person gas and then doesn’t season it.

Still, the bard clings to him and bats his eyelashes in an attempt to soften him up in order to get details on previous hunts. Like that would ever work.

Until it does.

Geralt knows the bard is slightly infatuated with him and while it’s a great ego boost, he also knows his life has no place for some pretty and young thing. Especially one that wants to be well-traveled and could possibly discover Geralt’s secret.

A secret that isn’t so secret to anyone who’s actually been to Rivia because his accent is quite shit.

It’s fortuitous that he’s able to lead them everywhere but Rivia throughout their travels, always skirting around the borders of Sodden and Aedirn. He doesn’t dare get too close to Lyria in fear of any Rivian stragglers. All the while, the bard, well Jaskier, doesn’t question him. 

The plan could’ve worked perfectly for years, decades even. That is, it would’ve worked until they went to Jaskier’s home in Lettenhoove. 

Lettenhoove wasn’t too impressive, a nice stately home like all the other stately homes he’s been to and lands filled with farms and fields. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but he doesn’t want to stir Jaskier’s more feral behavior so he oohs and ahhs appropriately. 

It’s when they leave and start heading towards the other parts of Kerack that Jaskier brings up visiting Rivia.

“So, my dear witcher, any chances of heading east anytime soon?” Jaskier is hanging back and looking through his composition book, not paying any mind to the path they’re walking. “It’s just that we’ve been all over the Continent in our travels together and somehow someway we’ve never crossed into Rivia.” Jaskier closes his book and walks a bit faster to tuck it into one of Roach’s saddlebags. “Any particular reason for that or-?” 

He stumbles on a rock and catches himself on Geralt’s calf, giving him a small grin in return. “Do you happen to be a wanted man there? Are you hiding from bounty hunters? Oh! Does the queen only want you to work in Rivia, but you’re a witcher and you answer to no country so thus you can never go home?” Jaskier taps on his chin as his questions grow, “Don’t tell me, you have a secret family that no one can know about and you’re protecting them from your reputation?” He slaps Geralt’s calf half-heartedly, “If so, may I remind you that as your very best friend in the whole wide world you are legally obligated to tell me if you have a secret family.”

Geralt grunts and gives his almost automated answer, “We’re not friends.”

“Are we back on that path again? My dear, what else do you call someone who has seen all your bits in a non-sexy way?” Jaskier starts walking backwards, his hand spread far from his body as he gesticulates, “I am but a flea on the back of the mighty white wolf destined to be nothing but an annoyance for all time.” He hangs his head in faux shame but Geralt can see him peeking through the fringe of his hair waiting for a reaction.

Geralt needs to be careful here, he needs to give Jaskier a lie believable enough to get him off his back for a few more years, something that will buy him some time.

“You can’t go there. Music’s illegal. One look at your lute and they’ll kill you dead.”

He’s an idiot.

Geralt fights the urge to smack his face while Jaskier sputters out, “ _ What _ ?”

He doesn’t bother responding, just pushes Roach into a canter and lets Jaskier catch up in his own time.

When he does catch up, red-faced and sweating, he spits out, “You are joking, right, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt!”

* * *

Geralt likes to believe that Jaskier forgot about that incident and his interest in Geralt’s ‘home’ but if anything it has him in a fervor. 

They travel to Maribor, just in the shadow of the Mahakam mountains when Jaskier points out that Rivia is on the other side and how maybe, just maybe they can skirt around and make a visit to his home.

“Witchers aren’t allowed to go home, Jaskier. We only have ties to the path and our school, that’s all.”

He knows he shouldn’t have said, he knows it the moment he opens his mouth that Jaskier will find offense with that. And so Geralt has to hold his bard back from marching to Kaer Morhen to give Vesemir a piece of his mind on whether or not witchers can go home.

So Geralt tells him that it was a joke.

And then he gets smacked on the shoulder with not enough force to move him but he pretends it does to make Jaskier feel better.

Jaskier nods his head, “Well, you better leave the jokes to the comic relief because that wasn’t funny at all.” He points a finger in Geralt’s face, “I  _ will _ get you to Rivia one day, even if it kills me.”

Geralt bites back a smile, “Whatever you say, bard.”

* * *

“Can’t go to Rivia, there are no monsters there.”

“Geralt, what. I mean, how? Did you just kill them all and they force you to leave?”

“Maybe.”

“You are not making this any easier.”

“That’s the point.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”

* * *

Jaskier talks about going to Rivia on his own during festival season to see if ha can turn a profit in a place he’s never been before, but Geralt stops him, grabbing onto his bicep carefully, “You would never make any coin in Rivia, it’s overrun with bards and music. An oversaturated market, really.”

Jaskier laughs in his face which hurts the tiniest bit and says, “Oh, is it really? I thought music was illegal?”

It’s Geralt that’s left sputtering for something to say this time, but Jaskier laughs once more and lets him off the hook, “I see, you just don’t want me to spread your tales to your homeland in case your secret family gets word of where you are.”

Geralt sighs, “I told you witchers are infertile, Jaskier.” 

“But imagine what your babies would look like, my dear! Little ones with white hair and blue eyes crawling all over the place.”Jaskier’s eyes grow wide as he imagines it.

Geralt can’t stop himself from asking, “Why blue eyes?” 

Jaskier stops, “What?”

“You said they’d have blue eyes, why?”

Geralt waits for Jaskier to say something, to give a hint, but he shrugs and smiles helplessly, “We don’t have time to unpack all that.”

It leaves Geralt with guilt burning in his belly, but he drops the conversation and pretends it never happened.

* * *

It must have been years since the last time Jaskier asked about what lies in Rivia and why Geralt runs from it. And it’s been great, he doesn’t have to worry about his accent slipping if Jaskier never knows what it’s supposed to sound like.

His last excuse for avoiding Rivia, that it doesn’t lay on his path, that his brother Eskel travels through there to slay its monsters seems to appease Jaskier’s curiosity, and it truly is all for the better.

Or it was until they reunited in spring at their predetermined location of the last twenty years, the outskirts of Oxenfurt. 

Jaskier runs into his arms all too willingly and Geralt cherishes the weight of his friend in his arms and discretely sniffs him to satiate the little beast in his chest. 

Immediately, Jaskier regales him with tales of his adventures during the winter; he talks about his students as if they were his children and he talks about Valdo Marx like the man was a piece of shit waiting to be stepped on. It makes Geralt smile, the corners of his lips pulled upwards by the sheer fondness Geralt has for this man.

And then Jaskier pulls away, a haughty look on his face, “Oh, my dear you would never believe this. I was going about my business the other day, strolling through the streets as I usually do when I stumble across a man claiming to be from Rivia. He wanted to thank me for bringing attention to his homeland through my songs about you, the White Wolf of Rivia.”

Geralt knows he can’t blush, that the mutations took that away from him, but he feels it all the same. 

“I thought to myself, this man can’t possibly be from Rivia, because he would have the same accent as you. And then I got to thinking that I’ve never heard  _ anyone _ that spoke like you.”

Geralt is sure there’s sweat dripping down his face, his house of cards is falling down around him and there’s nothing he can do.

“But Geralt, my Geralt, wouldn’t lie to me like that, right? You wouldn’t lie about where you’re from because that’s just ridiculous, don’t you think, Geralt?” 

Jaskier sways back into him and for the umpteenth time bats his eyelashes at him, and like every other time the bard’s used his charms on him, it works.

Geralt opens and closes his mouth several times before finally saying, “I’m not from Rivia.”

Jaskier gasps, an overexaggerated thing that makes his eyes pop, “You’re not? Oh, my dear, you have bamboozled me completely.”

Geralt grunts because he knows his bard, “When did you figure it out?”

“Oh probably the first time you spoke to me. Definitely, before you punched me though, that’s for sure.”

Geralt is at a loss for words. 

“Geralt you do realize that when you’re with me you drop the accent completely? You never fail to put it on when you’re taking contracts, but when it’s just us you always drop your guard and speak normally.”

Geralt drops his head to Jaskier’s shoulder, “I did not.”

Jaskier pats the back of his head, “It’s alright, my dear, it was a valiant effort. And I did enjoy your multiple excuses over the years. Never let anyone else tell you that you’re not funny.”

“You think I’m funny?”

Jaskier makes an elongated ‘eh’ noise and Geralt smacks his back in retaliation. He laughs and pulls slightly away, but still in reach of Geralt, “I think it’s very sweet that you’re dedicated to your fictional biography, but my dear, you don’t have to play pretend with me, alright?”

And how is Geralt supposed to respond to that?

So, he kisses Jaskier, right there to the applause and whistling of those on their way in and out of Oxenfurt.

It takes a while for them to disentangle and when they do Geralt leans his forehead against Jaskier’s, “My brothers are still under the impression that you think I’m from Rivia.”

Jaskier laughs, his nose scrunching, and his eyes clenched, Geralt lays a peck on his nose just because he can now, “Well, how about we have a little fun with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my nonsense! If you liked that be sure to check out the other works in this series!


End file.
